


eso's horrordust week '21

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Comfort Sex, Dust (Dusttale) - Freeform, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Horror (Horrortale) - Freeform, Horror/Dust - Freeform, Idiots in Love, Knotting, M/M, Mental Instability, Papyrus (Horrortale) - Freeform, Phantom Papyrus makes an appearance to be his usual shitty self, Praise Kink, Public Sex, SOUL Mechanics (Undertale), Soul Bond, Tenderness, Vaginal Sex, cumflation, horrordust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 13:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30056187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: somewhere, there's a multiverse they hadn't met in. somewhere, they are enemies. somewhere, friends.but not in this one. in this one, they're each other's.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 143





	1. til death do us part

**Author's Note:**

> its here! [horrordust week!](https://twitter.com/esqers/status/1364323876788920322?s=20) man, ive been so excited about this since announcing it♥

Even if he weren’t holding the SOUL and couldn’t all but _taste_ the apprehension from it, it was painted so starkly on Dust’s face that he couldn’t really ignore it.

Horror rubbed a thumb over the bell of the SOUL and watched as the other skeleton shuddered, torn between his tense look and the urge to relax into the ministrations.

“We… don’t have to do this… if you don’t want to,” he spoke, as softly as he dared.

Dust’s sockets went wide, eyelights shrinking into tiny pinpricks. The beginnings of a panic attack were all too obvious in the hard line of his shoulders and the involuntarily flexing of his fingers in his shorts. Horror was worried, but before he could say anything else, Dust did.

“I do! Want it, I mean— Fuck…”

His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head down just enough that Horror couldn’t see his expression past the brim of his hat. This one had a cat face embroidered on the front, a joke gift from Killer, who quickly learned Dust wore _any_ hat he got, joke or not. 

“Are you… are you sure _you_ want to do this, though?” Dust’s voice trailed off into something soft and unsure at the end of the question, and really, it had lacked the intonation needed to make it a question in the first place. Horror’s gaze softened into something that was only reserved for occasions like this, for Dust only.

“Yeah,” he said, then deliberated on it for a moment. “Why… d’you think I don’t?”

Dust looked away, though still down at his own lap, where he held Horror’s own SOUL in turn. His fingers were ghosting over the thick shell, and though he couldn’t feel it, the sight alone warmed the rusty magic within.

“We don’t know what my magic’ll do to yours. What if— What if it hurts? What if it _hurts_ you? You know it’s not stable...” He trailed off again, despite obviously wanting to say something else, too. The way he inclined his head and stared at the wall, focused on something in front of it that wasn’t really there didn’t put Horror at ease, either.

“Sugarpie,” Horror all but cooed at him. It was one of the rarer nicknames, and the memory of its origin always made Dust smile, even if it’d led to a panic attack at the time.

He could remember Horror spilling a bag of powdered sugar on him and laughing at the fact that he’d looked the same as the day he’d stepped foot into the castle. It hadn’t been funny then, with the way the sugar turned into dust as he inhaled it, cloying and choking him.

But it’d stuck, and Dust was able to laugh at it now. He was half-sure his SOUL jumped in Horror’s hold, but he couldn’t _really_ tell with how tightly it was held.

“There ain’t no one… I’d rather do this with.”

Dust grit his teeth, ribcage stuttering with a shaky inhale. He didn’t want to cry, before they even did anything, but it was progressively getting harder and harder.

“Promise I won’t lose you?” he all but begged, despite both of their aversions to promises.

Horror just smiled that soft smile again and nodded. Dust exhaled, equally shakily.

Papyrus hovered over Horror’s shoulder, hands so close to touching him that Dust could barely hold himself from springing forth, from making sure the thing — _person_ — that maybe, just maybe, actually cared about him wouldn’t get hurt. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Horror had… asked him for this. He _asked_ Dust to bind their SOULs.

That was something special, wasn’t it? You only did that if you cared for the other monster. If you… really loved them.

And despite Papyrus’ insistence that Horror was nothing but an EXP piñata, a filthy liar that would eat him up if they ever ran out of food — and he knew it wasn’t true, he knew Horror had never eaten a monster, and never would — Dust found himself loving the other one, too. It was the only reason he’d even entertained this idea in the first place.

He still wasn’t sure what his magic would do to Horror’s, weak as it was despite all the food he had access to now. He didn’t know, and it scared him.

“Ready…?” Horror asked, and Dust blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he’d just been sitting there, staring absently into a point over Horror’s shoulder, but it must’ve been long enough for the other to start worrying.

Dust’s teeth quirked up on their own volition. Horror always worried over him. He wasn’t sure — was there anything he was sure of, anymore? — deserved it half the time, much less all the time it happened, but it filled his SOUL with warmth. He wondered if Horror could feel it.

“Yeah.”

He did his best to stay focused; Papyrus was nowhere to be seen now, and that put him on edge, but he didn’t dare look around for him, not when Horror pressed down on his SOUL, all the strength behind his bones carefully held back until there was just enough pressure to crack the shell with a soft sound that had no business feeling as loud as it did in his acoustic meatuses.

The lilac magic all but spilled out of the small crack, and Horror moved his thumb to rub at the edge of it. Dust could feel the intent behind the motions, all the care and soothing, and it was almost too much.

He was looking at him expectantly, so Dust found his hand trembling. Even still, he pressed onto the SOUL in his grip, worried he’d shatter it into a million pieces on accident (or not an accident, a traitorous part of his mind whispered), but the shell was thick, and he almost winced as he pressed upon it with all the strength he could muster.

Nothing; it didn’t even creak.

He took a steadying breath and looked up from the soft glow of it to Horror’s face.

“Trust me?” he asked, voice wavering only a little as he did so.

Horror looked at him for a second, snorted, and then devolved into full-blown laughter. “No,” he said, pinning his gaze back on Dust’s face when he got himself back in control, but by then Dust was laughing with him. Dust thought if he still had eyelights, that they’d be heart-shaped.

Where he found the marrow-red repulsive in himself, he only thought it calming in the other skeleton. Horror’s red was the color of long nights of holding each other as they chased off their nightmares; it was the quiet afternoons spent in each other’s company, no words necessary to convey whatever they wanted to; it was the warm mornings, waking up tangled around each other so tight it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

Dust brought the SOUL up to his face. He held Horror’s gaze, even as he pressed a tender kiss to the scarred surface of it.

And then he bit down.

Horror’s breath caught in his throat as Dust’s teeth pierced through the thick shell. One of the bells was gone when he pulled it away, and he opened his mouth to show Horror the shards on his tongue. They melted on the summoned flesh like sugar — and wasn’t that a joke he couldn’t make with his mouth full? — all while Horror watched with a wide-blown pupil.

The dissolving magic tasted sweet too, but like Horror himself at the same time; his cooking and his touches and his rumbling voice and purr all at once, and the moment it was gone, Dust already missed it.

He’d closed his sockets to savor it at some point, but when he opened them again, Horror was still staring at him as if transfixed.

“I love you,” Dust muttered, only realizing he’d done so once the words were out of his mouth.

“...love you too, lambchop,” Horror replied, and it sounded like he was in the same boat, words soft and quiet.

Dust held Horror’s SOUL out, cupping his hands underneath it to catch the magic that dripped down, now exposed. Horror mimicked him, holding Dust’s close.

“Last chance to back out, buddy,” Dust reminded him. His hands were shaking again. Deep inside, he hoped Horror wouldn’t take it.

Instead, the bigger skeleton brought his SOUL closer. The magic inside was twisting and curling, reaching out towards Horror’s. It was a mesmerizing sight, and Dust couldn’t look away if he tried.

The moment his lilac touched Horror’s rusted red, it felt like he was punched in the sternum. He forgot how to breathe.

The world narrowed down to him and Horror, sitting cross-legged on the bed and holding their SOULs together.

If he’d ever doubted Horror’s feelings before, he couldn’t anymore. There were so many, the sheer _amount_ of love almost enough to have him blacking out. Every single thing Horror felt or thought about him was laid bare for him to see, every instance of him thinking about Dust, every speck of care and affection.

It felt like a freight train hitting him at full speed. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until there was a hand on his cheek, big and warm, wiping them off. He looked up to see Horror wasn’t doing much better, big fat tears rimming his working socket. But the look he wore was gentle.

And he was fine.

He was fine; he wasn’t in pain. Dust’s magic hadn’t _hurt_ him.

That knowledge alone made Dust spring forward, holding onto his SOUL tight even as he wrapped his arms around Horror, as far as they would reach. Horror wrapped him up in return, his embrace tight and safe. Dust was sure he was ruining his hoodie with his tears, but Horror wasn’t complaining, just held him tighter, until his ribcage felt like it’d get crushed under the pressure.

It was perfect. He never wanted it to end.

And even if their SOULs were physically no longer touching, he could still feel every bit of Horror. If that was what it’d be like forever now, it was the best decision of his entire miserable life.

“Oh, lambchop…” Horror muttered, his voice raspy and thick with tears. “I… I knew you loved me. But… but this much…? Stars, I… I love you, too.”

And Dust believed him. He could _feel_ the intensity of the feeling, right back from Horror, settling in his bones, hot not unlike LV, but so much nicer. What was Horror feeling from him? He hoped it was at least half as nice as he was feeling. Horror deserved it. Deserved to feel this loved, this appreciated.

“I— I—”

He didn’t know what he was even trying to say, but the words got stuck in his throat, around the invisible lump there. But it didn’t matter.

“I know… lambchop. I know,” Horror cooed, holding him as close to himself as was physically possible. It didn’t feel close _enough,_ he was sure nothing would _ever_ feel close enough again, but Dust clung to him anyways. “I love you, too.”

The burst of emotions in his SOUL when Horror said those words now… Dust didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it.

Didn’t know if he ever could.

Didn’t know if he wanted to.


	2. [nsfw] there's a golden lining up in every single cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written for the lovely @xxlucidry on twitter, thank you so much again ♥  
> title taken from katy perry's song 'not the end of the world', and i may have cheated with today's prompt, but there's a mention of a universe, so i don't feel too bad, heh

They barely made it into the castle’s foyer before Dust’s hands were on his chest, pushing him backwards and into one of the walls. Horror stumbled, off-balance from the suddenness of it.

He made a soft noise, blinking down at his partner as he balled his hands into the front of Horror’s shirt.

“You idiot,” Dust mumbled, head hung low. He was shaking, Horror realized. Before he could ask what exactly he was an idiot _for,_ Dust inclined his head to the side and stared at the wall next to them, browbones furrowing (more than they had already been, anyway). He shook his head and muttered for Papyrus to shut his trap, with thrice as many expletives.

He finally looked up at Horror, and his eyelights were positively _glowing,_ bright and boring straight into him. A phalanx dug into his ribcage, perfectly hitting one of the ribs, and he shivered.

“You almost let Dream skewer you with an arrow,” Dust accused. His voice was tight and his anger apparent.

Horror opened his mouth to say something, but Dust was faster, just like always.

“No, shut up. You have to be more careful! What if…” he trailed off, voice catching around a lump in his throat. He swallowed and shook his head again. He muttered something under his breath, and Horror knew that wasn’t meant for him. His sockets looked damn. “Don’t you realize? How much you mean to me, you idiot?”

“Lambchop…” Horror muttered, frowning himself. He raised a hand and slid his fingers under Dust’s, prying them away from the shirt, to twine together.

“I’ll show you,” the slighter skeleton said, and it sounded like a promise as his fingers squeezed Horror’s, first from an unconscious twitch, and then again, on purpose.

The world spun around them for just a moment, the expansive foyer gone in favor of Horror’s bedroom, though at this point, with how many nights Dust spent in it and just how many of his clothes were on the floor and in the dresser, it was more of _their_ room.

He pushed Horror back again, infinitely more gentle this time, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and they almost both toppled over, if it wasn’t for Dust’s deceptively strong grip. His hands slipped up to Horror’s shoulders and pushed him down, to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Horror let out a gasp as those fingers slipped under his hoodie next, trailing over his clavicle and pushing the fabric off his shoulders. Then they were at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, careful of his wound, Dust’s eyelights flicking all over him, not missing even the slightest of his twitches.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighed, throwing the shirt off into a corner unheedingly, and then his phalanges were feather-light as they traced the exposed bones, over the little, mended cracks they ran across.

Horror whined, gritting his teeth. Dust braced his knees on either side of him, leaning down to press his teeth along the column of his neck, butterfly kisses down the vertebrae and his sternum, hands dropped to Horror’s hips, to where his iliac crests poked from his shorts. His bones burned wherever Dust touched, a faint cloud of his magic sparking in his pelvic inlet, leylines buzzing along with it.

“So strong,” Dust whispered, his breath hot on Horror’s rib, and his teeth skirted the bone. His tongue poked out, to lick along its length. It felt like a jolt of electricity up his spine, and Horror groaned, fingers twitching. He didn’t know where to put them, eventually settling on Dust’s shoulders. “Stars, look at you. So fucking strong. All these scars? A proof you’re a survivor. Of how strong you are. Of how much you conquered.”

Horror wasn’t sure about that, but _oh,_ did it feel good to hear, coming from Dust. The smaller skeleton reached up and pressed their teeth together, the soft kiss a compliment to the way he was touching his ribcage, almost reverent in each movement. Almost like Horror was something precious, something to be cherished. It was making his SOUL skip more beats than was probably healthy.

Dust’s tongue swiped over his teeth and he parted them on instinct, meeting it with his own. It was unlike their usual kisses, slow and sensual and making him feel lightheaded.

Dust looked content, like he would’ve been happy doing this all day, taking his time to race every last chip and mended break on Horror’s body. They would’ve been there for a long time, if that were the case.

Was this how he felt when Horror did it? He was finding a new appreciation for Dust’s patience with him.

Dust’s hands slipped under the waistband of his shorts, making Horror jolt at the soft touches to his heated bones.

“Can you make your pretty body?” Dust asked him, still close enough that his breath fanned over Horror’s face, short and labored despite his apparent calm. “I’ll help, okay?”

Horror could only nod, holding the other skeleton close as their teeth pressed together again, a spark flying between them like an electrical current. It mixed with the cloud already gathered in his pelvis, and took form, the lean pseudo-muscles tensing, taking Dust’s vibrant lilac color. Dust never faulted him for needing a bit of help forming, never let him think there was anything wrong with it.

Horror appreciated it.

“...Dust,” he groaned, rolling his hips into Dust’s hands, now full of his hips. “...lambchop…”

“You’re so pretty,” Dust told him, pushing the shorts down to let his cock spring free, the only part of his body that kept his own color, a rusted red like old, dried blood. Dust stood up and pulled the shorts down and off, throwing them off to follow the fate of his other clothes.

When Horror looked up at him, his eyelights were sparkling, a smile so soft on his teeth that Horror’s breathing hitched at the sight of it.

“You look like you gained weight,” Dust said, and there was enough pride in his voice to fill the entire universe twice over. Horror’s skull flushed red and he made a soft sound that _definitely_ wasn’t a whine. His ecto-body was nothing to brag about, a thin construct that looked undernourished, like he hadn’t had access to food for the last couple years, either. Not like Dust’s, a chubby, bulging tummy and thick thighs Horror’s hands sunk into whenever he grabbed at them.

Dust must have seen the flash of doubt on his face — his lovely little mate, always seeing straight through him — because he dropped down to his knees in front of him, hands splaying over Horror’s sinewy thighs and giving them a squeeze.

“I’ll show you,” he repeated. The red in his eyelights shone bright, determined. He opened his mouth wide and swallowed Horror’s cock down to the knot, its tip halfway down his throat.

Horror keened, hunching down as he gripped the sheets in shaking fingers. He was sure if he could, Dust would be grinning. Their lack of a gag reflex came in handy at times like these; Horror’s cock was proportional to his larger body, and Dust had never been shy about telling him how good it felt when he took it, letting Horror carve its shape into his magic.

Dust bobbed his head, and the way his teeth skirted Horror’s knot sent shockwaves of sparking pleasure all along his body, marrow boiling in his bones.

“D—Dust,” he moaned, barely keeping his eye open at the onslaught of pleasure. But Dust was looking up at him all the while, and he was loath to break the eye contact. Dust’s fingers left one of his thighs, but not before squeezing once more, and ran along his slit, parting the lips that were already soaked in slick.

Horror’s breath left him in a rush, Dust not hesitating to plunge as far as they’d go. The angle must have been awkward for him, but even if it was, he didn’t let it show. He set a pace to go along with his bobbing, scissoring his fingers and making the ecto-flesh squelch.

When Horror choked on a cry, Dust pulled off of his cock, hand replacing it and pumping much slower, to his vocal dismay.

By then, he had four fingers knuckle deep in Horror’s cunt, curling them every other thrust.

“You ready, big guy?” Dust asked him, turning his head to press a kiss to his quivering thigh.

Horror’s whole body was shaking as he nodded, maybe a bit too desperately. He was so close, his magic coiled tight in his pelvis, but Dust pulled his fingers out of him, too, leaving him feeling too empty all of a sudden.

“Dust, fuck… love you,” he muttered, words slurring together.

Dust slotted himself between his spread legs, thumbs rubbing circles in the dips of his hips as he kissed Horror again, letting him taste himself. Horror didn’t think his magic tasted that good, but every time he tasted it mixed with Dust’s, he couldn’t help but think it was delicious.

“Love you too, Horror,” Dust said, leaning his forehead against Horror’s, “so fucking much.” He shoved his shorts out of the way and lined himself up with Horror’s entrance, pushing in in one smooth motion.

Horror jolted, his legs twitching under Dust’s hold. The smaller skeleton set a fast pace, their ectos slapping together with each thrust, almost overpowering the wet, slick sounds of his cock spreading him open.

“Gonna show you,” Dust muttered. His sockets were half-lidded, eyelights hazy. A SOULbeat or two later, and they fully changed to hearts. He gripped Horror’s hips, panting with the exertion. “Show you what you mean to me… Gonna put…” he cut himself off with a moan, screwing his sockets closed when Horror’s walls clenched down on him. “Gonna put a soulling in you. Love you so fucking much.”

Horror’s cock gave a throb at the words. He clung to Dust’s shoulders, holding onto him as much as holding him close. “P—Please,” he begged, digging his claws into his shoulder blades.

“I’d give everything up for you…” Horror wasn’t sure Dust was even aware of what he was saying at that point. But _he_ was, and the words felt like another layer of the pleasure, buzzing through him. “Find an AU just for us… breed ya ‘til there’s a soulling in your beautiful SOUL… fuck, I love you so much.”

Dust buried himself deep again, hitting the back of Horror’s summoned passage, and the jolt sent him over the edge with a loud shriek.

Dust kept fucking him through it, even as the crimson cum splattered against his hoodie, his grip on Horror’s hips bruising.

It was so much, aftershocks buzzing through Horror’s marrow as he whined, blinking to clear his vision of the dancing black spots. Dust was still looking at him, lilac tears spilling from his sockets. His browbones were furrowed, a flush high on his cheekbones. Horror’s breath hitched, walls squeezing on Dust when he noticed his thrusts faltering, a telltale sign of him impending orgasm.

“Dust,” Horror rasped, voice raw and scratchy.

“I love you,” Dust sobbed out, and his shoulders shook. His pace slowed down just a bit, still as deep as before, but it felt more intimate, even if Horror couldn’t stop twitching, nerves shot and on the edge of _too_ much. “I love you… Don’t—Don’t wanna lose you… Fuck, Horror…”

Horror crushed his lover against his chest, feeling his stuttering breath rattle his ribcage from this close up. Dust looked like he was about to start crying. _Really_ crying.

“You… won’t,” he told Dust, and the other’s voice broke on another sob, his cock twitching inside Horror as he came, flooding his insides with hot magic. It felt electrified, as Dust’s magic always did, and it made Horror bite out a noise.

Dust fell atop him, desperately clinging to him like Horror had clung to him earlier, and it was sticky and gross, but Horror just held him as he cried, soft, quiet murmurs to soothe him.

His SOUL gave a pang when it became apparent just how much his carelessness had affected his mate. He pressed kisses to Dust’s skull, over his hood, anywhere he could reach, and promised he’d be more careful.

Dust just cried harder, squeezing him like he’d disappear the moment he let go. And Horror let him.


	3. the alpha and the omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 3 is family! it's interesting when your brothers are so similar, and yet.

The Omega timeline.

Dust had never been a fan of it; there was something unsettling about the vastness of it, the whiteness of the sky — like unending clouds that held the premonition of a snowstorm — that didn’t sit well with him.

But it was where Horror’s brother, Sugar, lived. Dust wasn’t sure what kind of a deal Nightmare had to strike with Core Frisk to make it happen, and he supposed he didn’t  _ want  _ to know. But Sugar was given a place to live and Horror the privilege of visiting. And Dust couldn’t find it in himself to say  _ no  _ when the big guy asked him to tag along, with bags of groceries in each hand so he looked like a Gyftmas tree.

People stared at them as they made their way to the small house that the Papyrus lived in; whispers filled the back of his mind, people saying that it was  _ them,  _ how could Core let them in here! They’d been the cause of many of these people’s presence, some missions that went awry, some hidden survivors among the carnages they were known for causing.

Dust tried to tune them out, but in the end, it didn’t matter if he was listening to the real whispers or the fake ones, he supposed.

Sugar’s house had a tall door, but when Horror knocked and he came out to greet them, he still had to lean down a bit so as not to bang his head. He was  _ tall _ ; Horror was a fair bit bigger than Dust, but next to Sugar, he looked like a babybones.

Suar smiled wide at the sight of his brother, showing off his braces, and leaned down to pull him into a hug.

“Sans! I’m so happy you came to visit!” 

Dust didn’t catch much more than Sugar saying he should’ve called and he would have prepared spaghetti for the occasion, because Papyrus blocked his view.

_ ‘How SOULwarming,’ _ the phantom said, and the sarcasm was palpable in his voice.  _ ‘You never hug me like that, Dust.’ _

Dust grit his teeth. Papyrus never called him Sans. Sure, his name was Dust now, but hearing Sugar call Horror ‘Sans’ struck a chord in him.

“Because you’re a floating head and gloves,” he muttered, quiet enough so only his brother would hear him. Those same gloves folded over in front of him.

_ ‘I also have a torso. That’s all you need for a hug, anyway. And it’s also your fault I’m like this, brother dearest.’ _ He could probably cut the sarcasm with a knife at this point.  _ ‘But what do  _ you  _ know about brotherly love? All you’re good for is LV. Tell me, was I good EXP?’ _

Dust’s fingers tensed, adjusting his grip on the grocery bags. He was breathing heavily, and the feeling of eyes on him was nigh suffocating.

“Lambchop, y’coming?” Horror asked, and it was enough to pull him out of that feeling. He hurried inside, where Sugar was already fussing around the kitchen, moving little knick-knacks around to make room for the groceries.

“I would’ve cleaned more properly, but I didn’t know you’d come!” he said as he tried to take the bags from Dust, who just shook his head and held onto them tighter.

“I got it,” Dust said, already opening cupboards and moving the things into their designated sports with blue magic. He made sure to be extra careful, and not just with the fragile things like the cartons of eggs.

“Oh! Thank you, other Sans!” Sugar said, beaming widely. Dust found himself mirroring it as Papyrus made a gagging sound. “Oops— I mean, Dust! You go by Dust, don’t you?”

Dust’s smile dropped, but it wasn’t Sugar’s fault. He hoped the other wouldn’t think it was. “It’s fine, you can call me whatever you like.”

“Okay, Dust!” Sugar said with a cheery tone, even as he sat down at the kitchen table that was definitely too small for him, and started talking with Horror.

Dust wondered if they could get him a new one as he put the milk and flour into a cupboard.

_ ‘You are so disgusting,’ _ Papyrus said,  _ ‘You care about  _ his  _ brother more than your own one!’ _

_ Because Sugar was still alive, _ Dust thought, but didn’t say. Papyrus could hear him anyway.

_ ‘You say that as if it just happened. As if you weren’t the one to drive a bone through my—’ _

“Enough,” Dust whispered, shoulders slumping. “Please.”

_ ‘What, can’t handle being held responsible for your actions?’ _

“Oh, you’re done already? That was quick, thank you!” Sugar told him, and only then did Dust realize the bags were, indeed, empty. He balled them into a wad and put them into the drawer they belonged to. “It would’ve taken me much longer. Thank you for coming along, Dust.”

“No problem.” Because to him, it  _ was _ no problem. Horror’s magic still wasn’t stable enough to be reliable, even with the years of eating again and all the healing. And Dust had never seen Sugar using his magic; he knew he could, from Horror’s rare stories, but he thought it wasn’t too reliable, either.

“You should sit down, you’re a guest! I’ll make some tea. I’d make spaghetti, but Sans said you two already ate. Disappointing, but it also makes me happy!”

Horror laughed from his spot, head propped up on his folded arms. “Paps, you  _ know  _ we eat… Don’t worry.”

“You’re my brother! Of course I’m going to worry. Especially if you tell me not to!”

_ ‘I’m jealous,’ _ Papyrus scoffed,  _ ‘I think the day you show affection is the day you dust.’ _

Dust sat at the table, next to Horror, and Sugar went through the process of making the tea.

He must’ve zoned out, because Papyrus’ voice faded into the background, and so did Horror’s and Sugar’s. The warm mug of tea was grounding when it was handed to him, and Dust absently traced the little cracks along the ceramic. At some point, he ran out of the tea, and Sugar took it from him to refill.

The next refill he quietly refused, but made sure to tell Sugar that it’d been great. Like his brother, he brightened up when his cooking — did tea count as cooking? — was praised.

Dust kept the mug, even empty, just so he could hide the way his hands trembled. Horror probably noticed, he was good at spotting Dust’s tics, but he graciously didn’t say anything. It was another while until Horror said, “We have to get… going. Don’t wanna make… Frisk— Core Frisk mad.”

Sugar nodded and stood to see them off. “Promise you’ll visit again soon. I want you to try my new spaghetti sauce, Sans!”

Horror smiled softly. “Promise,” he said, all too easily.

He was already out the door when Sugar placed a hand onto Dust’s shoulder and held him back from following. He blinked the haze away and peered up at him; Sugar had to bend a bit just to do that.

“I um… Well, I wanted to thank you, Dust!” he said, straightening up at the same time he smiled.

“It was really no problem, Pa— no biggie, Sugar.”

“No, I don’t mean the groceries, but thank you for those, too. I mean, for my brother. Thank you for being so kind to him, for… helping him. And loving him! Every time he comes, you’re all he talks about! And he’s doing so much better than he had been… before.”

Dust swallowed the lump stuck in his throat. “That’s… not really something you gotta thank me for.”

“Perhaps not! But I wanted to, anyway. It means a lot to me.”

“I know. I know…”

“Go now, so there’s no trouble. And make sure to come again, too! I’m sure you’ll love my spaghetti, just like Sans. I learned a new recipe!”

He sounded so sincere that all Dust could do was nod, before being ushered outside. Sugar waved them off and as they went, Horror wrapped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him closer to himself in a way that shielded Dust from the onlookers.

“What was… that about?” he asked.

Dust burrowed into the freshly washed bulk of his patched up hoodie and replied into it. “He said I should tag along next time, too.”

Horror held him tighter, just for a moment. “You don’t gotta. If…” 

Dust shook his head. “I’d like to. Sugar’s… sweet.”

Horror laughed at the accidental pun. “Yeah. Really likes you, too…”

Hearing that warmed Dust’s SOUL, and he leaned up to press his teeth to Horror’s cheek, unheeding of who saw them. He felt bad that he couldn’t say the same back, but Papyrus didn’t like anyone.

“Yeah, I know.”


	4. [nsfw] make it an art, dance in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from AuRa's Dance in the dark
> 
> Not me writing a courting dance before i do in eiectus no one look at me

Dust hadn’t been sure about the idea at first. But now he had to admit this was fun, and he could see the appeal, and the meaning.

Most of the Fell universes had at least one thing in common, and it was the dances they did to court each other, as rare as that occurrence was. A way to test each other — whether their trust hadn’t been misplaced, at the threat to their own life.

Dust summoned a large bone, and Horror sidestepped it like it was nothing, like he expected it. He swung his axe, hand twisted to the side. Dust caught it mid-swing, the blade angled away from him so he could curl his fingers around the sturdy wood, and they both held as strong as they could, making a half-circle as they both twirled on a heel.

If Horror decided to let go, Dust would have gone flying backwards, off into the treeline. But the same went the other way, too.

Neither of them let go of the weapon.

With the momentum, Dust yanked, and they came crashing into each other, laughter intersped with sharp gasps for breath. He let go and pulled away, summoning a bone into his hand.

His fingers flexed around it. He swung and Horror caught it with ease, and the process repeated, their sneakers leaving footprints in the dry dirt. It wasn’t like they’d never fought — no, they sparred all the time, with each other and the rest of the gang, too — but this felt different.

The intent in their movements was thick, palpable in the bone attack they both held onto, stepping around each other like they’d practiced this, so close Dust’s eyelights were casting a red glow over Horror’s skull.

“I love you,” Dust grinned, his SOUL ablaze with the dance. They separated, and he fired a line of blasters, each one missing Horror by just enough to not singe his hoodie.

Horror mirrored the smile, eye sharp as he summoned his own wall of bones, forcing Dust to move back, out of their range.

He couldn’t help it; he reached in between their jagged edges and caught Horror by the bulk of his jacket, pulling him flush against the deceptively strong constructs. Their teeth met through the gap, a kiss that was nothing more than a mesh of tongues, hard and desperate.

They were both panting heavily by the time they separated, and Dust’s entire body felt on fire. He felt alive.

His LV sung in his marrow, his magic crackling like static charge across his joints. No doubt Horror could feel it when they were kissing, too, running between them like an electric current.

Sure, they weren’t courting each other, they were well past that point, but Dust was glad for it. If they’d done this before they knew exactly how the other one ticked and thought in battle, he might’ve lost a limb to the bone wall for the stunt he pulled.

It lowered back into the ground and out of existence, and Horror followed his previous trajectory, eye ablaze as he held his weapon aloft.

Dust licked his teeth, ducking under the swing only to be caught off guard as Horror caught him by the shoulder with his free hand, all but pushing him backwards. They ended up on the cusp of the forest spreading all around the castle, Dust’s breath leaving him in a gasp as Horror shoved him against one of the trees.

“That… was underhanded,” he mumbled, voice gruff and it was all Dust could do not to melt when Horror leaned down and brushed his hood and scarf away so he could nuzzle into his neck, teeth skirting the sensitive vertebrae.

He chuckled, the sound tapering off into a groat at the feeling of Horror biting down, a full-body shiver running through him. “We didn’t set any rules, did we?”

He felt more than heard Horror’s amused huff. He moved just a bit and bit down on another patch of bone. “...minx…” he muttered, affectionately. “Do you yield…?”

Dust hummed, as if he was thinking it over, and then rolled his hips forward, right against Horror’s. “Don’t think so.”

Horror took it for the challenge it was; he slammed his axe into the trunk a little from Dust’s head. It wasn’t close enough that he’d hurt himself on accident, but close enough for the intended jolt of desire to rush through him.

With his now free hand, he pushed the waistband of Dust’s shorts down. The cloud of lilac magic gathered there was bright and hot.

“That good?” he asked, as if he wasn’t in the selfsame boat. Dust could make out the outline of his dick through his shorts.

“Always,” he said, craning his head and gripping the back of the other’s neck to smash their teeth together again. Horror’s magic always tasted faintly like blood, but also like his cooking; nothing specific, but Dust could place the taste anywhere, anytimes.

Horror groaned into his mouth, dipping his fingers into the swirl of magic filling Dust’s pelvis. It didn’t take long, or much, to have him forming, not with the knowledge that Horror wanted him, and wanted him _this_ much.

“So wet…” he muttered, almost reverently, when the magic took shape, his fingers running over the length of his cock, too softly to appease Dust’s need.

“C’mon, big guy,” Dust told him before pressing another kiss to his teeth, less hurried now. “Want you.”

“I’m… taking that as yielding,” Horror conceded, as he pulled Dust’s shorts further down and then off.

Dust rolled his eyelights, but there was a smile on his face. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You do,” Horror said, and really, Dust walked right into that one, but it still made his SOUL skip a beat. Or two.

“Sap.”

He should’ve been the one to say that, anyway. But Horror knew very well how much better Dust slept with him around, with his arms wrapped around himself.

Horror didn’t offer a reply aside from an amused hum, instead sliding his fingers from Dust’s cock to his cunt, as soaked as he’d said, and teased along the folds before plunging a phalanx inside. Dust relaxed against the rough bark of the tree, body tensing and untensing in turns as Horror kept pushing, as far as it’d go.

It wasn’t that satisfying stretch he liked, but he knew exactly how to crook the finger to have Dust jolting with a flash of pleasure, hands scrambling for purchase on Horror’s shoulders until he gave up and just wrapped his arms around them so he could hold onto the bigger skeleton and bury his face into the matted fur that lined his hood.

One finger became two, and then three, and there was that delicious stretch that Dust always reveled in. He moaned unabashed against Horror, hips rocking into the thrusts as they came, slow and deep.

“I’ve been ready an hour ago,” he mumbled, words slurring together with the pleasure that made him pliant and drowsy.

“I know… But I like… you like this,” Horror told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his skull. “Y’sound nice.”

Dust was sure he was already blushing, and that Horror’s words were only making it worse, but at least his face was hidden.

“Can’t wait… to feel you, lambchop,” Horror continued as he pulled his fingers out with a loud squelch. His entire hand was drenched in purple slick; a moment later, Dust could hear him licking it up above, purposefully loud and obscene. It made his cunt ache, and clench down on nothing as more slick dripped from it, down to the ground.

“Go on then, big guy,” Dust grinned, even if Horror couldn’t see. He ground down, Horror’s cock a perfect pressure against his own. “Don’t keep us both waiting.”

Horror, instead of answering, just stepped back the barest bit, moving his own shorts out of the way. It was rare for him to be able to form a body on his own, and Dust hoped it was a promise of a good time. Especially considering the fact that Horror had already spent a fair amount of his magic during the dance.

“Don’t… muffle yourself,” Horror asked him, though it sounded more like a command with the way his voice was lowered, gruff and deep. Dust loved when it got like that. It always felt like its rumble got to the core of his SOUL, his whole body resonating with it.

Horror’s cock pressed against him and slid in in a single smooth motion, meeting no resistance as it carved its shape into the lilac of Dust’s stomach. And because he’d always been weak to Horror’s wishes, he let him have what he wanted, jaw falling slack as he moaned. He made sure to turn his head, so his voice wouldn’t get lost in the fluffy fabric.

Horror rewarded him with his rusty purr, ribcage moving with its sound where Dust was held against it. He wrapped his legs around the other’s hips, and it made Horror slide further into him, ecto stretched deliciously to accommodate him. He was barely even against the tree at this point.

“You’re… always so beautiful,” Horror mused, nudging the side of Dust’s skull, to make him look up. When he did, their mouths met in a heated kiss, saliva dripping down Dust’s mandibles when he couldn’t stop it, Horror rocking into him. He felt so full. “When… you fight. Love… watching you.”

Dust had to crane his head away again, gasping for breath, but Horror just took the opportunity to start peppering kisses along the column of his neck once more, covering every inch of bare bone he could reach with them.

“You look better,” Dust forced out, and his own voice sounded unnatural to him. He was distracted from what he was trying to say, because Horror was a dirty cheater, a cheater who knew how to play him like a stars-damned fiddle, and knew that Dust would writhe against him if he wrapped a hand around his cock and thumbed at the leaking tip. “You look… like a fucking monster,” he said, and Horror guffawed against his neck. 

No matter how funny it sounded, Dust couldn’t find a better way to describe it. Horror looked wild when he fought, like he was always two seconds away from dropping onto all fours and burying his canines into his opponent’s neck to snap it with, no hands needed.

It was hot.

Damn, he was fucked up.

He met Horror’s next thrust and they groaned simultaneously, only Horror’s groan devolved into a growl, overtaking his purr. Dust’s walls clenched down on the cock in him, the thick knot threatening to slip into him, and he found himself skirting the edge of an orgasm from that alone.

Even knowing that Horror was only making such a sound for his sake was making heat pool at the base of his spine. Or maybe it was because of it. 

He whined, hips arching into the next thrust. “Fuck— Fuck, Horror… C’mon, big guy, knot me,” he demanded breathlessly.

Horror’s teeth bit down onto the column of his neck again, growl all but shaking through Dust’s whole body, and tongue licking away the welling marrow like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

His claws dug into Dust’s hip, holding him still as he pushed, stretching his entrance wide around his knot.

Dust keened, false nerves overloading with the sensations and he came with splatters of lilac all over Horror’s hand and lap.

He shook through his orgasm, Horror’s shallow, desperate thrusts prolonging the euphoria until his body felt weightless.

It didn’t take too long for Horror to follow, Dust’s fluttering, clenching walls welcoming the scorching cum that was poured into him in spades. As always, his ecto did its best to accommodate, stretching with the pocket of rusted red, cloudy through the magic.

Horror held him, cooing at him, fingers stroking over the bulge when it felt like too much, the knot holding it all inside.

Dust’s skull felt stuffed with cotton, floating as he was fussed over, despite the fact they both knew he could take it. Had taken far more before.

It took long minutes for Horror’s knot to go down, dissipating with the rest of his lean ecto. The moment it was gone, cum gushed out of him, despite his weak attempt at clenching down to stop it. His muscles refused to listen, and the fact his legs were still spread wide around Horror’s hips wasn’t helping any.

“Fuck,” he whined at the feeling.

Horror was beaming at him, his purr back in the depths of his ribcage as he nuzzled the bites adorning Dust’s neck, almost apologetically.

“You always… look so good all filled up,” Horror muttered, entirely too satisfied with himself.

Dust chuckled. “Yeah? Love bein’ filled up, big guy.”

Horror’s purr kicked up a notch, like Dust had slipped a switch in him. “Can give you more,” he offered, “if y’help me.”

Dust’s teeth quirked up into a lopsided grin and he leaned up to press them to Horror’s. A spark of magic jolted between them, not unlike a static current.

When they pulled apart, Horror was mirroring his grin right back at him, cock back to teasing the stretched entrance, smearing the mess around. “Take it y’want more…”

“Haven’t yielded yet, love.”


	5. two down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 5 is with/around others. bsp

Nightmare didn’t even need to be able to read emotions to know his boys weren’t having the best of days. As they all sat at the table, gorging themselves on Horror’s cooking, him and Dust had gravitated towards each other where they sat, shoulder to shoulder, and their plates almost touching.

Killer and Cross must have also taken notice, for they were throwing the two soft glances. Cross had praised every single thing he’d put in his mouth, just because it got Horror to crack a smile. Killer looked contemplative, like he was wondering if he could kill the cause of their distress. Or if he could fuck it out of them. Whichever it was, Nightmare knew it’d end up badly if he tried either of them.

“Will you two be joining us tonight?” he asked, to stop the possibility before it was too late. He didn’t need to specify who he was talking about.

Dust glanced at Horror before looking away, shoulders hunching in on themselves, and the wine-like guilt of his was thick in the air.

“...nah,” Horror said, almost absently. He nudged Dust’s side to get him to finish the rest of his food, which he had been pushing around the plate more than anything else. “We’re gonna… sleep in mine.”

Nightmare nodded. While Killer looked mildly disappointed, his relief was as palpable as Cross’. The assurance did wonders to the low slump of Dust’s shoulders.

When Horror finished his own portion, he beckoned Dust to follow him. His eye didn’t even look as disappointing over the leftover food as it usually would. 

The two of them disappeared down the hallway, and Nightmare scooped another fried shrimp into his mouth.

“Why does he never come to us?” Cross wondered aloud. He was still staring at the doorway, long after their lovers were gone.

Nightmare was about to offer what he understood of the jumbled mess of Dust’s emotions, but Killer beat him to it, tapping his fork against the edge of his plate.  _ Clink. Clink. _

“‘Cuz he’s dumb,” he said. Cross bristled, and even if Nightmare’s own assessment was similar, he shared the sentiment. “Probably thinks he’s a bother or something.”

Nightmare barely stopped himself from calling out his own hypocrisy, remembering the days when Killer’s SOUL destabilized only too well.

“But he’s not!” Cross scoffed, like he had to convince them, of all people. 

“Leave it be,” he sighed around another one of Horror’s shrimps. He’d have to ask him to make them more often. “He’ll figure it out on his own, eventually. Until then, it doesn’t seem to bother Horror one bit.”

Killer grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘it better not,’ and then they lapsed into silence for the rest of their meal.

The bed felt too spacious, too empty with two of their lovers missing that night, but Nightmare could feel the slowly calming emotions from down the hallways, tapering from distress and guilt into something softer that he had trouble placing in his mind, but knew in his SOUL was gratitude. And love, in enough spades to fill the castle proper.

“They’re fine,” he muttered to his other boys, knowing better than anyone they were only pretending to be asleep. Cross gave himself away with the way he relaxed at the words, and Killer’s SOUL gave  _ him  _ away with its softer glow.

Until Dust trusted them enough to share himself with them as well, they’d take solace in the fact that he wasn’t suffering alone.


	6. there's no loyalties amongst villains, except for you and me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LV rushes are a grabbag of sanity.

Horror sighed, resting his forehead against the wooden surface of the door.

“Let me in,” he said, voice a touch sterner than before.

A moment of silence, one of many, and then a, “No!” from the other side of it. The smell of ozone was heavy in the air, like a brewing storm coming for them despite the fact that they were indoors.

Dust was having one of his nights; he’d been recluse all day, twitched more than usual, replied choppier than usual, and acknowledged the ghost more than he should’ve. And despite all the signs, he hadn’t come, just barricaded himself in his room, and now he refused to let Horror in.

“Lambchop.”

It was almost unfortunate that Dust was immune to his warning tone.

“Go away!”

They had been at this for an hour by now, back and forth while just getting nowhere in the end. Horror had half a mind to break the door down, fingers itching to grab his axe from its holster.

“Dust. Let me in.”

Dust had been progressively sounding more and more desperate, his voice breaking more than once in his cookie-cutter responses. “N-No! Go away, Horror! I can’t— I can’t hurt you, too!”

So that was wherein the problem laid. He decided to call it a small victory, because it was the first thing he could count as something akin to an explanation.

“You… won’t hurt me,” he said. That was the one thing he was always sure of. Dust had never hurt him, even during the worst of his episodes, and Horror doubted he’d change his mind out of the blue. Especially if he was so scared of it.

“You don’t know that! I could— It’d be so easy! Bet you wouldn’t even fight back!”

The words didn’t sound like his own anymore. He was probably parroting whatever that infernal apparition of his was telling him. A lot of the time, Horror wished he could see the damned phantom, just so he could punch its lights out. No one got to belittle Dust, not on his watch, not even his own psyche.

“You wouldn’t do that… I know you, lambchop.”

“You don’t know anything about me! I’m a murderer!”

Horror scoffed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Welcome… to the club. Now open… the damn door. I’ll break it down, if… if you don’t.”

He debated making good on his threat, but after another bout of silence, punctuated only by the faint whispering from afar, there was shuffling, and the lock clicked.

“I’m comin’ in,” he announced, just to give Dust a warning, and then he was pushing the door open.

He expected to see it in shambles, but all the furniture was intact, save for the dresser, which wasn’t  _ broken,  _ per se, but was in nothing short of disarray. Dust’s clothes were strewn all over the floor haphazardly.

And there he was, standing in the middle of the mess, shoulders hunched and shaking, and gripping a bone attack in front of himself, like he thought Horror would fight him.

He deigned to ignore the bone as he stepped closer, Dust mirroring each of his steps with one backwards. But the room was only so big, and soon enough, Dust’s back hit the wall. He glanced to the left, even if it was obvious how much he didn’t want to stop staring at Horror. Desperately, he shook his head.

“No, he wouldn’t,” he mumbled, like he was trying to convince himself, too, and Horror couldn’t watch him tear himself up like that anymore, so he crossed that last bit separating them, placing his hand onto Dust’s where it gripped the summoned bone.

“Lambchop,” Horror said softly. Dust’s wild eyelights snapped back to him at the sound. “...put that down.”

The internal debate he was having was obvious on his face, in the multitude of expressions passing over his features in succession, there and gone faster than Horror could place them all. But eventually, Dust let go of the bone, and let Horror take it away. It clattered to the floorboards off in one of the corners of the room.

“I… I don’t need a bone to kill you,” Dust told him, only earning himself another scoff.

“If you  _ wanted  _ me dead… I’d already be.”

He leaned down and scooped the shivering skeleton into his arms. Dust didn’t fight him, but his hands did clench and unclench, holding onto the front of his hoodie as he curled up. Like that, he appeared even smaller than he really was.

Horror took him to the bed and clambered onto it, kicking the messy covers aside as he did so. Dust refused to let go and it took a bit of gentle coaxing to sit him in Horror’s lap, back to his rumbling chest. He didn’t know how much his purr, as broken as it was, would help, but at least it wouldn’t make the situation any worse, so he didn’t stop it.

“Here,” he said, when Dust settled against him, somewhat. He pulled his SOUL out and pressed the organ into Dust’s trembling fingers. He almost dropped it. Almost.

When he had a steady hold on it, he couldn’t do much else than laugh, breathless and choked.

“Y—You’re stupid…” he mumbled, “I’m— I’m a murderer, and you give me your SOUL? You got a death wish or something?”

In response, Horror pressed a kiss to the back of his skull, over the hood. “You’d… never hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” he shot back, even as he cradled the SOUL to his own chest, hands encircling the span of it protectively.

“I do… You’re nice, lambchop. You’re funny… and kind to me. You have… so much love in your SOUL.”

Another wry laugh from Dust. Horror wrapped his arms around him and held him close, peppering kisses over the back of his skull, wherever he could reach.

“More like LOVE. That’s… that’s all I got.”

“Nah… you show me love all the time… when we cook… when we fight… when we’re like… this…”

“What if I’m just— pretending? For a betrayal kill?”

Horror’s hand cupped his cheek and turned his skull to the side, so he could look at him properly, and also press their teeth together.

“You’re… playin’ a very long game then.”

Dust curled up into himself even more and Horror just held him as he mulled it over. He was fine waiting as long as it took.

“He never shuts up,” Dust mumbled eventually, his thumbs rubbing over the surface of Horror’s SOUL like he wasn’t even aware of it. Horror couldn’t feel the touch, not through the thick shell, but the intent in each little touch was clear, and so loving it made what little magic it had in it swell. “Every time I look at you, he says I have to kill you. That… That love is a weakness.”

“It’s not… Have… have you seen us fight together? I think… it’s a strength,” Horror told him.

“Why do you even— Why do you put up with me? One day, I’ll…”

Horror shushed him when his voice went wobbly. “I don’t… put up with… anything. I love you, lambchop.”

Dust turned so he could hide his face in the fur that lined Horror’s hood, so he could hide the tears that slipped from his eyesockets. “You’re stupid,” he hiccuped into the fabric, inbetween sobs. He was clutching Horror’s SOUL to himself like he was scared it, along with Horror himself, would vanish into thin air.

“Maybe so… but I won’t stop.”

He cradled the smaller skeleton to himself and lowered them to lay down. “Sleep now.. lambchop. You’ll… feel better.”

“Will you—?”

“I’ll be here.”

Dust muttered something that sounded vaguely affirmative and pressed himself back into Horror’s chest and closed his sockets.

Horror didn’t lie to him, and he really wanted him to feel better. Clutching the SOUL he’d been offered — despite him not deserving it — close, he let the other’s purr lull him to sleep.

Papyrus couldn’t compete with how assured Horror was of everything he said, and the voice in the back of his mind quieted down like it always did when he was this close to him.

For the entire night, Horror’s presence warded off the night terrors. And he did feel better in the morning.


	7. brief our moments, brazen and bright

The room was quiet, save for their soft breaths and the bandages being rolled around his chest. He was a little scared to even move, as if that would ruin everything, ruin the moment of peace.

"'m glad you're okay," Dust said, barely above a whisper, like he didn't want to break the tranquil moment either.

Tenderly, he tied the end of the bandage over his sternum, fingers lingering for just a moment too long.

"I'd… never leave you," Horror told him, the truest thing he'd ever said, and then grasped the hand that had patched him up and held it between both of his. "Thanks."

Gone were the years they'd yell at each other for coming home from missions beaten and bruised; just coming back was okay. They were okay.

"Any time," Dust assured and leaned forward to press his teeth against Horror's, stealing the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Dust's fingers traveled up, to where the new bandages covered his ribs and to where the chipped scars peeked over the edge of the cloth. He ran a thumb over one of the deeply scored lines, softly as one could. Both of them shuddered, static electricity skipping between them, but Dust didn't pull away, followed the line up to Horror's collarbone, along the length of it until he passed it, until he was just caressing bare bone.

"…Take a picture," Horror whispered cheekily, swallowing to try and get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth. Dust ignored him, following down his humerus where more of the faded marks criss-crossed the limb.

"A picture?" Dust echoed back, after a moment, "Not enough." He made it his goal to touch every single line, to trace across all of them where they split the bone with whiter cracks, mended over time.

Dust's eyelights were glued to the bones he was caressing, and he didn't see Horror's expression melting, a smile smoothing his features. He couldn't do anything but press a kiss to Dust's cheek, leaning forward. He let Dust do as he pleased, turned his arm however the smaller skeleton wished, let him position the limb however he wanted.

Electricity ran across the marked-up bone, but it was nowhere near threatening, just a gentle tickle of Dust's residual magic sparking between them. Dust raised the wrist he'd taken to holding up and pressed his teeth to the back of it, leaving the bones there tingling in more than one way.

"I don't want to lose you." Dust was still close enough that Horror could feel his breath on his hand and he couldn't help the shiver passing up his spine.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured.

Dust hummed, a soft sound in the back of his throat. And then he was kissing the hand again, making sure to press his teeth to every single scar, every line and crack. A shock ran through Horror, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the erratic energy or because of Dust's sharp teeth skirting the sensitive spots.

"You better not," was whispered against the bite. Dust soothed it with a kiss, twined his fingers with Horror's when he deemed his attention to the scars enough. "You better come back next time too, big guy."

Horror's smile was soft, an apology and a promise alike, a declaration all at once. He pulled Dust close, crushed him against the very same wound he'd tended to.

"…I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends, with a little bit of softer future... It was fun, to host and participate in this little event! I hope others could find as much joy in it as i have. It made me so so happy to see all   
> the amazing content that's come from it, and I'd like to thank everyone for joining on this little journey. Love you all 💜💜💜

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @esqers ♥


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